It was a slow thing. Like pace of the clouds above them. With their breaths too shy to be heard, and their heart beats too narrow to be felt. And when she shed a tear, he kissed it. And when she closed her eyes, driven by the pain, he asked for her help, because he suddenly needed to know the color of their own eyes. So he asked her, and she got lost in strands of green and honey, until all the clouds were gone.
